


Remember

by BadLuckCharm



Series: Other Authors' Fics [37]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author did this instead of sleeping, Before the Maze (Maze Runner), Bottom Newt (Maze Runner), Canon Divergence - the Maze Runner, Canonical Character Death, Consensual Underage Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depressed Newt (Maze Runner), Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Everything is consensual, First Meetings, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, If you havent seen The Death Cure you might as well stop reading now, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced First Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Newt’s father and mother, Mentions of Thomas/Teresa, Mentions of Thomas’ mother, Newt’s past, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-The Maze Runner, Sort Of, Suicide, The Death Cure, The Death Cure Spoilers, The Fever Code - Freeform, The Fever Code Spoilers, The Maze Runner Spoilers, The Scorch Trials Spoilers, The importance of a blue bandana, There are only spoilers ahead, Thomas remembers, Top Thomas (Maze Runner), Underage Kissing, memory wipes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLuckCharm/pseuds/BadLuckCharm
Summary: After he had been stung by the Griever and his memories returned, Thomas remembers. And not just working at WCKD, buteverything.( Original author: The underage tag is because I don’t know what the legal age is in other countries, but Newt is 16, Thomas is 15 in the beginning [yes, I know this is different, but this is fanfiction, who the fuck cares? Stop nit-picking and just fucking go with it])





	1. What They Forgot

**Author's Note:**

> Original Author’s Note: I haven’t read the Fever Code yet, so chill. Plus this is more based on the movies, the mini comic, and my own personal headcanons than the books, because fuck James Dashner and his stupid fucking book endings. So if you want to start arguing canon or “the way it is in the books”, go right ahead, but I won’t be paying attention. I read the first three, I know what happens. Chill out.

_I want you_  
_Yeah I want you_  
 _And nothing comes close_  
 _To the way that I need you_  
 _I wish I can feel your skin_  
 _And I want you_  
 _From somewhere within_

**Before the Maze:**

They met by chance.

A few of the subjects —including Minho, Newt, Frypan, and Winston— had escaped their cells, only to hold Thomas and Teresa captive. Right away, Newt had sensed something was different about the brown-haired, brown-eyed boy that Minho had brought over to the rest of the group.

“Then _help_ us.” Newt had said.

Teresa had somehow come up with a way for the group to get out. As they moved along the service tunnels, something about Thomas struck him. He almost seemed familiar…

It didn’t take long for him to remember.

“I remember you.” Newt told Thomas who was shuffling along behind the Brit. “When we got here, they gave us a bunch of tests. Like puzzles. Suppose you must’ve done alright on ‘em.” It had come out harsher than Newt had meant. His tone softened. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Thomas.” Something was alight in Thomas’ eyes as he introduced himself to Newt. The blonde felt the inkling of a smile forming, but stopped it from appearing for the moment.

“Thomas.” He let the name sit on his tongue, inviting it in and letting the same get comfortable. “Nice to meet you. They call me Newt.” He gave Thomas a look, searching for a reaction from the brunette, but there was none.

He should’ve known that Teresa would lead them into a trap. As Newt tried to shoot Thomas a glare —because _he knew_ — but Thomas was stepping in front of Newt and Frypan. Still, Newt shook with anger.

As they carted him away, Newt stole a chance to glare one final time at Thomas. Thomas, who’s eyes weren’t hard like Janson’s, Ava’s, or even Teresa’s. He looked… remorseful. Guilty.

They had stowed him away in a cell far from the others. From there, it became a waiting game. Newt would pace, pick at the skin around his nails, pace some more, then finally sit in a corner and sigh. It had been hours at this point.

 _How typical_ , he thought. _Programmers, only caring about their stupid cure. They don’t give two bloody shits about us._ Newt sighed again, running a hand through his hair, and down his face. No doubt they’d be punished for trying to escape.

 _Maybe they’ll kill us, and get this over with._ Newt chuckled, despite himself. No, they were too important to finding a cure. _So the Maze it is, then._

Newt tried not to think about who they’d send first, but it was the only thing his brain was able to focus on. _Minho, probably. He’s too stubborn for his own good. Or Gally. Same problem, different person_. Newt’s breath left him. Kid. Same kid. That’s all they were. Well, they had been when they all arrived. But WCKD took that away, too.

Kids. Test subjects. People. Means to an ends. Newt’s face fell in his hands.

Did it even really matter anymore? He tried to think about what his father had told him. About the Right Arm. They had been so close to getting there. To reaching them, helping break kids out of WCKD’s clutches.

Fuck car checks. Fuck the Flare. Fuck WCKD.

Pissed, Newt rose and began pacing again, more rapidly as rage boiled inside of him. It wasn’t bloody fair. WCKD took everything from him. After Newt’s mother died of the Flare so many years ago, his father was all he had left. And WCKD stole Newt away from him. The only person he’d ever been sure he loved and trusted.

Well, he trusted the others, didn’t he? Minho and Gally and Frypan? Winston? Newt stopped, looking out of the small, rectangular window that wasn’t any longer than his forearm or wider than the size of his fist. Yeah, he could trust them. At least, more than he trusted WCKD or Teresa or…

Could he trust Thomas?

Newt couldn’t be sure. Thomas wasn’t like the other Programmers, that was for sure. Newt knew he didn’t really want him and the others to be caught. But if he knew, why didn’t he stop Teresa? Why did he let them walk into a trap? He padded over to the padded cot against the wall in the cell, sitting on the edge.

He didn’t know.

A handful of beeps were muffled as they echoed inside the wall by the door before it opened. Newt didn’t look up from his feet. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe they were sending him into the Maze first.

“Hey.” Newt didn’t look up at the sound of Thomas’ soft voice, or to see if the teen had come alone. He said nothing. “I’m sorry. I knew it was a trap. They taught us what to do in the case of being taken hostage, but I don’t think they had you guys in mind when they wrote that protocol.”

“No. But then again, you lot don’t much care what happens to us. Do you?” Newt’s eyes finally met Thomas’ for a brief moment before Thomas’ gaze flitted away in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Newt snorted.

“Whatever you say, Thomas.”

“Newt, look-”

“Oh, you remember I have an actual name, now do you? I thought we were just numbers on a chart for you!” Newt rose from the bed, coming to the edges of the glass that separated him and Thomas, his voice rising with his frustration. “We’re just some bloody lab rats you don’t give a damn for! Do you?”

“Please, Newt… I didn’t want this. What they’re doing to you guys… I…” Thomas didn’t finished, and Newt scoffed. He turned away, staring at the opposite wall.

“Why are you even here?”

“I had to apologise.” Newt shook his head, not believing a word that came from Thomas’ mouth. “I had to see you.” It was so quiet, Newt almost missed it. He uncrossed his arms, and turned back to Thomas with an audible sigh.

For a moment, neither said anything. Their eyes locked, both looking for something in each other: one comfort and forgiveness, the other truth and a reason to believe in.

“Why me?” It took Thomas a second to answer.

“I don’t know. I thought that maybe you’d be able to believe me when I said I was sorry. I feel like Minho would’ve cut my head off.” A small smile tried on Thomas’ lips, and Newt decided he liked the look, and gave a small reassuring grin back.

“Well, if I know Minho, you’re probably right.” Newt gestured to the glass wall between them. “Glass or no glass.” Thomas chuckled, and sat on the floor, facing Newt, who did the same.

“Your accent, how did… I mean, are you-”

“From England? Yeah. Well, my parents are. They brought me over when I was only a year old.” Newt looked at the floor in front of him, tracing the outline of his shoe laces. “My mum didn’t make it. She caught the Flare just a couple of months after she had me, she caught the Flare. According to my Dad, she stayed in England and let me and my Dad have a chance by getting on a boat to come here.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s no better here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I never really knew her. My Dad was the only one I ever really knew. He and I had been together through everything, until…” Newt stopped. It still stung, even after so many years.

“Until…?”

“Until WCKD kidnapped me from him.” Newt looked up. “That’s the difference. My Dad would’ve never willingly given me up to WCKD. For anything, really. He loved me, and WCKD stole me.” Newt finally looked back up. Thomas’ eyes had filled up with tears, and Newt’s heart dropped to his stomach. “Sorry, uh— that’s enough about me, why are you here?”

“My mom gave me to WCKD to protect me. She figured I’d have a better chance with other immunes than with her.” Newt was about to make a comment on how he most likely wasn’t, but Thomas spoke first. “Even though I wish she hadn’t.” Newt said nothing for a while.

“You’re not like the others, Tommy.” Newt paused, why did he say that? “I mean, Thomas, sorry-”

“No, don’t be. I kinda like it.” Thomas gave a genuine smile, and Newt’s stomach jumped. Before he knew it, there was a mirrored smile on his face.

“Alright, then. Tommy it is.” Thomas bit his lip, but couldn’t contain the grin on his face.

“I, uh… Heh, I hope I can come down to talk to you more often, Newt.” Thomas said. An icy hand reached out, wrapping its fingers around Newt’s heart, freezing it.

“You’re leaving?” It came out almost too quickly. Thomas nodded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back later.” Thomas stood up to leave, and as he punched in the code for the door, he paused for a second to glance back at Newt, his lips still wearing a grin. The door shut behind him, and Newt leaned back til his shoulders pressed against the bed, still sitting on the floor. A warmth grew within him, and no matter what he did, it never subsided.

Yeah, he was starting to think he could trust Thomas.

**Before the Maze: One Month Later:**

Thomas had come to see him nearly every evening. The two would sit and talk about their families, their current situations. Every once and awhile Thomas would update Newt on the Glade.

“Minho’s settling in alright. Him and Ably seem to be getting along okay.” The brunette said. Newt nodded.

“Good that. Minho can be a stubborn handful, but he can do well for himself when he needs to.”

“Yeah.” A comfortable silence settled on them before Thomas spoke again. “Hey, I’ve got something this time.” Newt perked up from where he sat on the bed, his back to the wall as he stared at Thomas.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“You trust me, right?” Thomas asked carefully. Newt didn’t even hesitate.

“Of course, Tommy.” He’d come to know Thomas, seen the change in him from the first time they’d met. Thomas wanted to do something about WCKD. Wanted to help Newt and the others, knowing that WCKD wasn’t to be trusted or believed. And that, in turn, made Newt wholeheartedly trust him.

Thomas rose and came to the edge of the cell, fishing something out of his pocket. It was a small slip of paper and a blue bandana, and with occasional glances from the paper to the holo-keypad on his side of the cell, Thomas punched in numbers. The door swung open and Newt’s lips parted slightly.

“Tommy, the code-”

“I know. I might not be able to get you out of here, but...” Thomas held the door, wedging the bandana between the doorway and the door, as a way to keep it open slightly. He walked over in front of Newt. “But I can come sit with you.”

“Tommy, I…” Thomas sat on the bed next to the blonde. “How…”

“There’s no cameras in here. Plus, their security system isn’t something they’d expect a Programmer to go snooping around in.” Thomas smiled, and Newt’s pulse skyrocketed. Thomas was so close, sporting that infectious smile and he was… he was right there.

Newt’s fingers were gliding along Thomas’ shirt sleeve before he realized what he was doing. He withdrew his hand.

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re here. That I could actually reach out and touch you.” Thomas grabbed Newt’s hand and hot electric currents zipped around under Newt’s skin at the contact. Thomas gently guided Newt’s hand to his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I trust you.” Newt’s throat tightened. It had been too long since he’d had physical contact with anyone. Talking was one thing, but this…

“Thank you, Tommy.” The brunette swallowed nervously, and nodded. Newt’s fingers wandered over the blue fabric of Thomas’ shirt, wanting. Searching. His hands trailed up Thomas’ arm and over his shoulder. Thomas just watched in silence as Newt’s fingers ghosted over the material that separated his fingers and Thomas’ collarbone. Newt knew this wasn’t how normal people acted, and that he probably shouldn’t be doing this, but they weren’t normal people. Still.

“Please, don’t stop.” Thomas whispered when Newt’s hand stilled. He looked up into brown eyes. And that was the last thing that happened before Newt leaned up, pressing his lips to Thomas’ praying that he’d read all the little blushes and flirty remarks right. Thomas kissed back, reaching around to hold Newt in one of his arms and lightly pushed the small of his back to edge Newt closer to him.

They broke apart for air.

“I wasn’t sure if you… if I had been right about that. If you actually liked me in that way.” Thomas said slowly. Newt grinned at him.

“Of course I like you, Tommy. I just didn’t think you liked guys.” Thomas shrugged.

“At first, I wasn’t sure. But what I did know for sure was that I liked you. And that’s good enough for me.” They kissed again, but this time Newt more nipped at Thomas’ lips than led a slow kiss.

“Good.” Newt said quietly on Thomas’ lips.

Newt wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but when Thomas eventually had to go, it was all too soon. He said nothing, and watched as Thomas stand. The brunette opened the door, removing the bandana. He stared down at it, and smiled, tossing it to Newt.

“Keep it until I come back.” Which, he did later on in the night when all the other Programmers were asleep.

And so it went every night after that. Thomas would see Newt after dinner, go off to bed, sneak out later only to come back Newt’s cell to lay next to him, the two of them kissing and talking quietly in the dark. Thomas would talk about his mom, and Newt would relay the crazy stories his father had always told him as a young boy, or try and describe the house he and his father had by the ocean as well as how much he loved the beach and the water there. Or even sometimes they never said anything at all, and just huddled close on the bed, comfortable with the silence between them. All until it was near dawn and Thomas would have to slink back off to his actual bunk, even if Newt or he had managed to fall asleep during their time.

**Before the Maze: Three Months Later:**

Newt knew. Six guys. It had been five months. He’d been more quiet in the last month. His days were numbered, and despite the fact that neither of them said anything about it, it was no secret. He’d been wringing his hands and turning over the blue bandana —which he got to keep while Thomas was away— in his hands. His pacing worsened. He’d find himself lost in thought as he’d sit on the bed, only to realize a second later that he’d be vigorously pacing around his small cell.

Thomas had already come on his evening visit that night, but he’d been fidgety. On-edge. Jumpy. And Newt already knew what that meant. He’d told Thomas about the Right Arm, and that they’d been working against WCKD and how to contact them. He wanted Thomas to know, because he’d never remember after tomorrow. He’d given Thomas the same slip of paper with the Right Arm’s contact on it. Thomas was the only one who could do something about it, anyway. Since Thomas left to pretend to be asleep in his actual bunk, Newt had laid on his padded cot, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d forget everything. He’d forget his father and all of his crazy stories. He’d forget who he was and where he came from. He’d forget the color and sound and smell of the ocean. He’d forget the small little house by the beach he’d shared with his father. He’d forget how much he loved plants, and that his father had told him his mother always loved keeping a garden just as much as Newt did. He’d forget WCKD and the awful things they’d done. He’d forget the anguish they’d caused him by taking him away from his father.

And he’d forget Thomas. His Tommy. Deep brown eyes, soft brown hair, sweet lips, the warmth of his skin, contagious smile, and the sound of his laugh. All of it. All of it would be gone tomorrow, and forever.

Newt’s gut twisted over, tossing and turning as much as he was. He just wanted Thomas to get back to the cell so he could hold onto him. He tied knots into the bandana, only to then untie them when there were too many. It helped keep his mind off of what was to come. It was something to do while waiting for Thomas and for the end.

When the beeps from the other side of the door beeped, Newt’s heart froze with fear. This was his last night remembering and his last night with Thomas. The end would come tomorrow.

Thomas quickly rushed into the room, shutting the heavy door behind him, and then rapidly punched in the code he’d long since memorized by now to the door. Newt absentmindedly threw the bandana in Thomas’ direction, not moving his gaze from the ceiling.

“Newt.” Thomas crawled onto the cot next to the blonde. The Brit finally looked over.

“It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Thomas nodded. Newt swallowed hard, and looked back up at the ceiling. The sight of Thomas’ face… this was going to be harder than he thought. He fought back tears, swallowing thickly everytime a wave of them threatened to appear.

“Don’t ever let them convince you that you’re like them, Thomas. Because you’re not.”

“Okay.”

A long moment passed.

“Is it going to hurt?”

“I… I don’t know. They put you in a tube of water, so it’ll feel like you’re drowning. After that, you’ll be unconscious for the rest of it.” Newt’s first impulse was to ask what ‘the rest of it’ entailed, until he thought better of it. Not like he’d remember, anyway. Best not to think on it.

He wanted to tell the story of how he’d nearly drowned as a child, wandering too far into the rising tide of the ocean as his father was on the beach, looking for something. He could vaguely remember what it was like to have the saltwater take over his ability to breathe. That was, until his father scooped him out of the water. But not before he’d realized that fear had fueled the water more: he could do nothing to stop the waves from tossing his small body around, dunking him over and over into its depths, drowning him. Newt remembered the utter helplessness he felt that no matter what he did or how hard he kicked and thrashed, the water would kill him away. He felt that same helplessness now.

“Tommy, I’m scared.” It was quiet, and child-like. Newt was ashamed the words left his lips so meekly. But then Thomas’ hand was on his cheek, turning his face to look into the brunette’s eyes.

“So am I.” He said before kissing Newt slowly. “But I’ll be watching. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you in there, I promise, Newt.” Newt nodded, but looking at Thomas made the tears flow, and once they came, it was as if the gates of a flooding dam had been opened, and it all came rushing forward. Thomas pulled him close, and Newt cried into the crook of Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas would occasionally press a kiss into Newt’s temple as he rubbed circles into the blonde’s back.

It took a long time for Newt’s tears to subside, but once they did, he didn’t move. He stayed there, lying on his side, breathing in the smell of Thomas and burying his head in the crook of Thomas’ neck.

A shorter amount of time after, Newt sat up, Thomas following.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well, if this is to be my last night, I guess I shouldn’t spend all of it feelin’ sorry for myself.” The blonde looked Thomas dead in the eye. “Maybe… Maybe we should get up to somethin’ memorable.” It took a second for Thomas’ eyes to widen.

“You mean…” But Newt was already nodding.

“Yep. If you’re alright with that. I am, but then again, I won’t remember much of it after tonight.” Newt expected Thomas to say no, but the brunette simply smiled.

“I’ve never done anything like that before, even with a girl. But I want to.” Thomas agreed. Newt smiled, and cupped the back of Thomas’ neck to pull him in for a kiss. The kiss started slow, but then picked up until Thomas’ hands were roaming Newt’s body like they never had before.

“Make me remember, Tommy.” Newt whispered into Thomas’ ear.

The first time was slow, unpracticed, and slightly awkward at times, but yet still sweet. The second was hard, fast, desperate, and Newt was sure his ass would be sore in the morning (which Thomas had made a comment on). It wasn’t long until they were both asleep in each other’s arms, tired from what they’d just done.

Morning came all too quickly. Thomas had taken the bandana from the door, and wrapped it around his ankle. But instead of leaving, he stayed curled up against Newt the entire night. And he was there in the morning when two armed guards came in to take Newt.

Thomas went with, naturally. Even when they were pulling Newt towards the circular tube. _Drowning_. That’s what Thomas had said. He looked back at the brunette, the same fear from all those years ago. The same helplessness swallowed him whole.

“Tommy-”

But Thomas was already elbowing his way between Newt and the guards, just in an effort to get that one last kiss. Tears streamed down Thomas’ face, and he could hear Thomas scream, even once a wall glass separated them. Again. The two guards were holding him back, and one tear escape Newt’s eye.

“Goodbye, Tommy.” He whispered, and Thomas shook his head, reading Newt’s lips through the glass.

“No! Please!”

Water soaked through Newt’s shoes. He tried to think about the soreness between his legs.

_You might not remember it was me or what we did, but you’ll at least feel sore enough to know that someone loves you, tomorrow._

The memory made him want to smile, but Thomas’ muffled cries drove metal stakes through his heart. The water rose to his hips, his entire body shaking from the cold water on his thighs.

_You love me, Tommy?_

The water was above his chest.

_Of course I love you, Newt._

It reached his chin, and not even three seconds later, he was submerged. One second… two… three…

He couldn’t breathe. He told himself not to, but even then, his nose involuntarily took in water. The burn stung, but the shock of it, made him gasp, taking in more water. He screamed, pounding his fists on the glass.

_I love you too, Thomas._

He could feel himself slipping away, almost like taking a nap.

**In the Maze:**

He came up in the box. His name was Newt, and he talked funny. That’s all he knew.

That, and his ass _hurt_.

It wasn’t long before he knew he was different from the other guys. He asked Alby why he thought his ass hurt after his first day, when they had a second to talk as Newt put his name on the Maze wall. Alby had offered many explanations, but the one that had stuck with Newt was the suggestion that maybe he’d been thoroughly fucked the night before. Because deep down, Newt felt something was missing from the moment he came out of the box. Something. Or someone. But if someone had loved him enough to fuck him, why was he abandoned here to this god-forsaken Glade?

It haunted him every waking moment of every day.

**WCKD Compound:**

After Newt had passed out unconscious, Thomas lost it. He fell to his knees as guards and scientists carried off the blonde boy he’d grown to love. He pulled the blue bandana from his ankle, and held it to his nose.

Newt.

It still smelled like him. Thomas’ body shook with sobs and anger, but he stayed still, breathing in the smell of Newt. He did that for the rest of the day, until a guard escorted him to Ava Paige’s office.

He sat in front of her desk, but didn’t meet her gaze. She took a long moment before she spoke, the silence dragging itself out. Thomas could still hear Newt’s muffled, gurgling screams as he drowned.

“I’m disappointed, Thomas. When you arrived, you were one of my most promising programmers. But since the breakout…?” She paused, and he looked at her. “There’s a reason we keep subjects separate from programmers. To _know_ them… makes it harder to do what we do.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

She grilled him about asking questions about the Right Arm, of which he told her nothing about. And just when she seemed that she’d let him go, Janson walked in.

“Ah, Janson. There you are.” She said. Janson removed a lighter from his pocket, flicking it so that the flame danced into life. Thomas couldn’t see any cigarette or anything Janson could possibly want to smoke. Even then, it seemed a little odd, that Ava would let Janson smoke anywhere in the facility, let alone her office of all places.

But the bandana was violently ripped from his hands, and before he had time to react, Janson held the bandana over the flame.

“NO!” Thomas screamed, jumping forward. But it was already too late. Janson had dropped the flaming bandana into a metal waste bin. Thomas’ breath left him, as if it had been knocked out of him.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Thomas. But you gave me no choice. You were too close to him.” Ava said softly. Shaking, Thomas stayed where he was as Janson left, smiling.

**WCKD Compound, One Year Later:**

Thomas had been personally monitoring Newt, against Ava Paige’s insistent suggestions not to. But he had to. He monitored them all. But most of all the six who’d broken out, including the blonde-haired Brit. He’d been thinking about contacting the Right Arm, reaching out to them. But he couldn’t. Ava would find it too suspicious if he’d snuck into communications.

Newt was a runner, and that was no surprise. He might’ve been thin, but the boy was wicked fast if he wanted to be, and he had the stamina to keep up with Minho and Ben. Something terribly sad had been hanging on Newt, and Thomas wasn’t the only one who could tell. Teresa had made an off-hand comment about how “A5 seems to be reacting differently than the others, turning to depression rather than anger or frustration” but Thomas hadn’t said anything. He’d kept to himself how much it enraged him that the harsh conditions of the Maze had taken a sweet, strong-willed boy and turned him into a depressed seventeen-year-old.

But something was definitely off that day. Something was wrong.

Newt had gone into the maze too early, and on his own. Confused, Thomas naturally followed him on the many different monitors, trying to understand. Even when Newt had begun climbing the ivy, Thomas still didn’t understand.

Not until he looked into the monitor, making dead eye-contact that Thomas understood. His heart stopped, and his eyes couldn’t remove themselves from the screen.

Newt took a deep breath. Thomas held his.

Newt sighed. Thomas panted for air.

Newt looked up at the sky. Thomas shook with fear as he watched.

Newt jumped. Thomas screamed.

IF EVERYONE COULD PLEASE RESUME THEIR REGULARLY SCHEDULED WORK, THIS IS ALL PART OF THE EXPERIMENT. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.

It was the only thing he could hear over the deafening silence that had fallen over Thomas’ ears. It was nothing more than a Simulation to them. They didn’t care. He knew people had exclaimed in horror, gasped in shock, and the likes, but he heard none of it. The other programmers did as they were told, but Thomas bolted, unable to look at the screen. He sprinted past guards, programmers, scientists, and didn’t stop until he was out of breath and falling into his bunk, the doors closing behind him to seal him in black.

And darkness took him as the lights before his eyes faded into nothing.

When he woke up later, Teresa had found him, and was stroking his hair, his head placed in her lap. Newt had survived. He was almost too afraid to ask. Alby and Minho had found him, taken him back to the Glade before the doors closed. HIs leg would never be the same. Not without WCKD tech. But he’d never have it. WCKD would never give him any help. Not really. They hadn’t even given him a fair chance at life.

He felt nothing but empty. He hurt from the void that had been left by the knowledge that there had once been emotion there that void was now. Newt might be alive, but… he’d never be the same. And it sickened Thomas. What was even worse was that he knew he had a hand in all of it.

It had to end. It all ended today.

So he contacted the Right Arm. For another year and a half, he helped feed them information until WCKD caught him. Pulled him towards the water tanks. As they did, he thought about everyone, including the young boy they’d sent a month earlier. Chuck. He’d thought about the Outbreak Six. He’d thought about Teresa.

And he thought about Newt. He’d finally be able to see him face to face after two and and half years. But he wouldn’t know him.

The water drowned Thomas’ thought out until he no longer could think.

**The Maze, the Next Morning:**

His name was Thomas, and he was afraid. That was all he could remember.

“Greenbean, meet Newt. When I’m not around, he’s in charge.” Alby was introducing Thomas to a vision of light, with blonde hair and kind brown eyes.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re always around, then.” Newt had joked. He looked at Thomas. “Listen, that was some dash you made earlier. You know, for a second there, I thought you had the chops to be a runner. Till you face-planted.” Thomas liked the sound of Newt’s voice. The accent… he couldn’t place. But then again, he couldn’t even remember how he knew that the different way Newt talked was called an accent.

That night, he and Newt sat by a log. And for the first time since he’d arrived, Thomas felt safe.

**The Maze, Several Days Later, After the Griever Attack:**

He had to remember. Taking the Griever’s stinger roughly from Chuck’s hand, Thomas took a deep breath, sighed, looked up at the night sky, and plunged the stinger into his leg. He heard his name being screamed. But in his dream, bits and pieces came back.

WCKD. Teresa. The Maze Trials. Drowning.

It mostly came in quick flashes, and he didn’t get most of it, but he knew for sure that he and Teresa worked for WCKD. That the Maze was a test. That they had to escape.

And they did.

After they escaped, more and more came back to him. His mom. The Flare. The Outbreak Six. Newt. The suicide attempt.

 _Newt_.

**At Janson’s Warehouse, in the Bunks:**

Everyone was asleep, except Thomas. He’d been reviewing what he’d just seen in his sleep and what Aris had just shown him. Newt laid in the bunk above him, and summoning his courage, Thomas sat up. He climbed the side ladder and stood on it, one hand on the rungs and the other gently shaking Newt’s shoulder.

“Wha…” Newt blinked at him slowly. “Tommy?” Thomas’ heart stung at the nickname that now had more meaning, since he could now remember the first time he heard Newt say it. The very first time.

“Newt, can I…” He wasn’t sure how to ask. “Can I come sit with you?” He whispered in the darkness. God, he wanted to kiss Newt. Even before he could remember, he’d wanted to kiss Newt, from the first night they’d sat against the log, away from the fire.

“Sure.” Thomas pulled himself up, coming to lay down next to Newt. Like it used to be. But Newt still didn’t remember. The words reverberated around his brain, echoing like the voice was shouting the words at him through the other end of a hollow tunnel, racing towards him in an attempt to jog the one moment he used to know.

_Make me remember, Tommy._

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Newt’s. The blonde moaned softly, and reached a hand to cup Thomas’ face gently. Thomas’ hands found their way to various parts of Newt: his hair, his face, the small of his back, his shoulders, anywhere he could touch.

“About bloody time.” Newt blinked at him, smiling. “Been waiting since you first came up in the box for you to shuckin’ kiss me.” But when Thomas didn’t immediately respond, concern crossed Newt’s face. “Tommy…?”

“Newt, listen. We were like this. Before the Maze.” Newt perked up.

“You remember?” Thomas nodded.

“I remember a lot. Mostly about WCKD, but also about you. You and me.” Newt went quiet, looking away. Thinking hard on something. “What is it?”

“You remember. So, we knew each other before the Maze?”

“Yes. We were… more than close.”

“Did we ever…?”

“Have sex? Yeah.” Newt’s eyes widened.

“Right before I went into the Maze… did we have sex right before I went into the Maze?” The question that had burdened Newt’s mind for so long. To find out if he was abandoned or not by the person who loved him. Or if he was just some simple fuck to an unnamed person.

“Yeah. The night before. You told me to make you remember. And I told you I love you.” Thomas confessed, giving a small reassuring smile. Tears pricked up in Newt’s eyes. Thomas’ heart fell, and he swiped his thumb over the tears as they fell to the pillow. “Newt? What’s wrong?” But Newt smiled, despite the tears.

“It was you. You love me. All that time, I didn’t know if someone loved me or just used me. I’ve always wondered. But having no memories, it just added to what drove me crazy.” The blonde explained. Thomas nodded. He remembered that day too. The day Newt jumped.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Tommy.” Newt shifted, kissing Thomas again and pressing his body flush up against the brunette. “So… I know the others are sleeping, but I wa thinking we could get into some trouble.” Newt kissed under Thomas’ ear, making him shudder.

“Here? Now?”

“Unless you’ve a better idea?”

“Actually…”

Thomas showed Newt the air duct that Aris had showed him, and led Newt to one of the empty rooms he’d briefly seen on the way back. They climbed into one of the lower beds, and he hovered over Newt. Covering the blonde in kisses trailing all over his body as their clothing was quickly discarded. It wasn’t long before Thomas remembered what to do, and his insides sparked with the joy of knowing that here, now, he could hear the soft moans and gasps Newt was making. And not only did Thomas revel in the knowledge that he was the one eliciting the sweet noises from Newt, but also that they were alive. He could finally remember one of the best parts of his life. That he had that part back.

“Make me remember, Tommy.” The words echoed in his brain, both past and present as he made love to Newt for the third time in his life.

His Newt.

 _It feels like there's oceans_  
_Between me and you once again_  
 _We hide our emotions_  
 _Under the surface and tryin' to pretend_  
 _But it feels like there's oceans_  
 _Between you and me_


	2. What Newt Couldn’t Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: Sorry for not posting, I work a hell of a lot, and drink a hell of a lot. It’s probably a problem. Whatever. I’m not good at this updating stuff anyway. That’s what the account host is for. Also, the shirt swap in this chapter was based very loosely off of a post I found on Tumblr like a year ago. Thought it would work here. Also, I started reading the Fever Code, if you guys care about that sort of thing.

 

 _I want you_  
_And I always will_  
_I wish I was worth_  
_But I know what you deserve_  
_You know I'd rather drown_  
_Than to go on without you_  
_But you're pulling me down_

 

**Janson’s Warehouse, Thirty Minutes Later:**

Newt shivered against Thomas’ side. The powerful air conditioning paired with the sweat that had cooled on his bare skin made Newt’s skin turn cold. He tried to curl into Thomas for warmth, but it did very little. Thomas did notice Newt’s discomfort, even though he was barely awake, sleep pulling at his tired soul that hadn’t had a good night’s rest since before Newt had gone into the Maze. Regardless, he felt Newt’s restless movement.

“Newt?” Thomas yawned, tilting his head up, off of the pillow to look at Newt, whose head was on his chest.

“Sorry, Tommy. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Newt mumbled. Thomas looked down at the blonde.

“S’okay. You cold?” Newt nodded, and Thomas sat up. “We should probably head back. The others might notice that we’re gone.” Newt was silent, but reached for the pile of clothes on the floor. He pulled one of the shirts on, as well as his other remaining clothing garments. But as Thomas tried to sleepily pull on his shirt, he noticed it didn’t quite fit, the clothing more constricting than when he’d taken it off. As if his pectorals and biceps had suddenly enlarged themselves.

Then he noticed Newt pulling on the white shirt he’d been wearing before, the blonde pulling a part of the white shirt to his nose and inhaling deeply. Thomas’ heart warmed like the embers of a fire being given oxygen, breathed back to life. He discarded the dark green shirt, not being able to wear it.

He liked the way Newt looked in his shirt anyway.

After Thomas had wrapped Newt’s shirt around his hand, the two crawled their way back to their actual bunks, relieved to find the other boys still asleep. Thomas and Newt chose separate bunks, quietly agreeing that it was best if the others weren’t aware of their past together. Of what they were now.

There were more important things to worry about. Thomas stared at the bottom of the bunk above him, where the blonde slept. He was worried about what Aris had shown him. Who were these people? What were they doing here?

...did these people really want to bring them to some sort of safe haven or were they just lying to get what they wanted, just like WCKD?

Thomas rolled over onto his side, but then reconsidered it, and rolled the other way. He huffed. Neither felt better. He flopped into his original position on his back, and sighed. Everything felt so wrong about this place. About Janson. About the other kids from the other mazes. It just felt… well, _wrong_.

The brunette lifted the shirt that was wrapped around his hand, inhaling deep through his nose. Newt. His shoulders went lax, and every muscle in his body seemed to calm itself.

“Thomas?” The voice was quiet, and the eyes peering down at him from over the edge of the bunk were dazed with sleep.

Soft brown eyes stared at him, a question that wasn’t said aloud hung there, between their connected gaze. Thomas sat up in bed, his eyes floating to the floor.

“I heard you tossing and turning. Can’t sleep?” Thomas shook his head. He heard the rustling of sheets above him, and he assumed that Newt just wanted to make sure he was okay before going back to sleep.

But then there was a warmth at his side, and a hand caressing his freshly washed hair. Newt’s fingernails dragged along Thomas’ scalp, and suddenly that ever elusive feeling of sleep finally returned. He laid back, Newt laying next to him.

“What about the others?” The hand in his hair paused, but then resumed a second later.

“They can say what they bloody like. I don’t shuckin’ care.” There was a brief moment where the only sounds that filled the room were Minho’s snores and the sound of breathing from all the other sleeping boys. “What’re you thinking about?” Thomas shifted, curling an arm around Newt.

“I’m worried. I don’t know if we’re safe here.”

“Ahh, you’re just letting WCKD get to you.” When Thomas didn’t respond, Newt propped himself up on an elbow, staring at Thomas. “Thomas. We’re safe here. Trust me.”

“Maybe.” Newt set himself back down beside Thomas, laying his head on Thomas’ chest. The blonde fell asleep to the sound of Thomas’ heartbeat. Thomas took a little longer, but Newt’s even breathing settled his nerves just long enough for his eyes to close.

With the exception of Minho, no one said anything in the morning, to Thomas’ surprise. Well, they did, but never directly to Newt or Thomas.

“Glad you shanks finally admitted your dumb feelings. Slintheads.” It was a sleepy jumble of words, but something in Thomas told him that the Asian had meant it in a good way.

**Janson’s Warehouse, the Next Night:**

Thomas frantically grabbed for anything that could barr the door. Anything to stop Janson and WCKD from getting to him and his friends. He couldn’t let them hurt his friends anymore than they already had.

They had to get out. It was the Maze all over again. But this time WCKD was the monsters they were escaping from. They always had been.

“Thomas, can you just calm down and talk to us?”

“It’s WCKD!” Thomas screamed. The surprised reflected on Newt’s face. On all the boys’ faces. “It’s still WCKD, it’s always been WCKD.”

“Thomas.” Hearing his name from Newt’s mouth —so calm and firm, yet scared and unsure— it had Thomas even more frazzled. He looked at Newt’s hand beside him, then he gazed at Newt, not even trying to hide the desperation and engulfing fear that had taken hold of him since he’d seen the bodies of children. _Children_.

The blonde took a deep breath, staring at Thomas. Thomas pitifully gazed back. Newt, his rock that kept him steady, his anchor. Thomas couldn’t even remember what an anchor was or what the word meant, but it felt right. Newt was his anchor. Newt had never led him astray before, and it was time to return the favor and steer Newt and the others to away from harm. Away from WCKD.

“What did you _see_?”

Escaping wasn’t as smooth as Thomas had hoped it to go. But they had gotten out, broken free of WCKD. Now they were in some sort of building, and were hunting for supplies.

 _A mall…_ Some disembodied voice told him in the back of his mind. This place is called a mall. Unsure of how or why he knew what they place they were in for the moment was called, Thomas pressed on, him and Minho looking for some sort of way to restore power to this… mall.

“You hear me?” Minho said, snapping Thomas’ attention back to him. _Hear what? Oh, right._ The kids WCKD had strung up back at Janson’s compound.

**The Scorch, A Few Days Later:**

Thomas had to sit away from the others. Newt knew he was wrestling with his conscience, and if he left the brunette sitting by himself to be alone with his thoughts any longer, the younger boy would get suffocated by the terrible horrors they’d seen today.

With a quick glance around the campfire, Newt realized that no one else was going to comfort Thomas. Which made sense, considering that if anyone were to do it, it would probably be the blonde anyway.

“So we can’t give up. _You_ can’t give up. I won’t let you.” His voice was slipping and he knew it. If Thomas gave in to doubt, Newt knew the rest of the group would soon follow. Then they would all be truly lost. Lost like the blonde had been not so long ago.

He looked up at the brunette, the one who’d saved him from losing himself. Sure, Thomas hadn’t been there when Newt had tried to end it all. He wasn’t Minho and Alby, dragging Newt’s half-alive body back into the Glade. He wasn’t Jeff, who’d taught him how to walk again, with a severe limp that never left.

But Thomas had saved him. He’d saved him by finding a way out of the Maze, and giving Newt a chance to escape the place that had taken everything from him. He’d saved Newt from the constant torture of a question that had plagued him for three years, wondering if he’d ever been loved, and if he had the possibility to be loved again. He’d saved him from becoming a lifeless body for WCKD to drain the life from. He’d saved Newt from the Crank, the night they’d escaped from Janson.

Thomas was the reason Newt had to hope for a better future. And if Newt could once again feel hope, he knew that he owed it to Thomas to return that hope. But he didn’t know how.

He saw that his words weren’t working. Thomas was never really one for communication, anyway. He was more of a physical, acting-before-thinking-things-through kind of person. So Newt knew actions were his best bet.

Newt curled his left hand around Thomas’ neck, gently pulling him in for a slow kiss. Newt could feel the silent tears that ran down Thomas’ face, and Newt used his right hand thumb to softly wipe them away, but occasionally pulling back to kiss the tears on Thomas’ right cheek.

Neither said anything for a long time, Newt just kept giving Thomas deep, reassuring kisses to let Thomas know things were going to be okay. Finally, Newt leaned back, giving Thomas a small smile.

“C’mon, man. Get some sleep, yeah?” Newt said quietly, before he stood. But as he turned to walk away, a surprise jolted through the blonde as a hand reached out to grab his own. Thomas faced away from him, but Newt still held the brunette’s hand, giving it a squeeze before lightly pecking it with his lips. He walked off, having the intention of sleeping.

And he almost had fallen asleep, since the fire had gone out, the others had all fallen into a deep sleep (especially Minho, who hadn’t dropped his obnoxious snoring habit). Newt’s eyes drooped, his muscles going lax as sleep nearly took over him. But then there was the crunch of sand underneath boots, and the slump of someone laying down near him and the others. But what shocked Newt into an even more awakened state was when an arm curled around his middle, and a nose lightly nuzzled the base of his neck.

“Tommy.” Newt rolled onto his back, trying to look at the other human next to him. Thomas didn’t even meet his eyes, and said nothing, but gently rolled over onto his stomach, half laying on Newt, his face resting in the crook of the blonde’ neck and shoulder. “S’alright, Tommy. I’m here.” It was the last thing Newt said before drifting off.

The Scorch wasn’t kind. Winds of sand and unseen hands pulled and pushed at the six teens as they made their way across the barren wastelands that was the sorry excuse of a remainder of the rest of the world. The days were swelteringly hot, but the nights were bone-shakingly cold.

But Thomas had regained himself out there, in the Scorch. He’d been the leader Newt saw in Alby, with slight differences, of course. Newt saw Thomas the same as he had when Thomas sprinted out of the Box: frightened and unstable. But he’d grown. He had purpose now. Protecting his friends was all that mattered. And seeing that purpose build within his friend gave Newt the reason and strength to push on, to take that next step through the sands crumbling away beneath his feet.

It kept his mind off of Winston’s death. How he’d given Winston the gun, because the look in Winston’s eyes had reflected back in the blonde’s. The look of hopelessness. Knowing the end was near. Wishing for everything to just simple be over.

Newt hadn’t felt that way in a long time, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t remembered exactly what it looked like. What it felt like. It was why he’d given the gun to Winston. Given the favor he’d never gotten in return.

The look in Winston’s eyes kept Newt awake at night, however. Thomas chased those thoughts away during the heat of the day, but at night, Newt was prey to his own mind. Nearly every time.

He couldn’t take much more of it. He rolled over, one night, surprised to find his leader still wide awake.

“Tommy?” He whispered in the dark of the cool night.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Thomas said, rolled over on his side, away from the blonde. Newt shook his head.

“S’alright, Tommy. Why are you up?” It took the brunette a long while to respond, and Newt honestly thought he might’ve gone back to sleep.

“I can’t stop thinking about Chuck.” _Oh_. Newt reached a hand out, letting it rest on Thomas’ back.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. We all miss him. Winston and Alby, too.”

There was another long silence, and Newt was about ready to roll over and go back to sleep before Thomas sniffled.

_Oh. Oh no._

“Tommy...” Newt called softly, crawling over to be near him.

“I remember.” Thomas’ voice shook with the tears that wracked his body. He was making an obvious effort to stay quiet, but his control was slipping.

“You remember what?” Newt clung to him, trying to both soothe and warm the boy he loved. To shield him from the cold and the icy guilt that froze over his heart.

“Every night,” Thomas hiccuped, “I remember bits and pieces of everything. I…” he sniffled again, “I remember the day I met Chuck. He came in, crying because he didn’t want to leave his mom and dad. He was only nine then, Newt. Nine. And I did this to him.”

“Thomas, listen.” Newt squeezed his arms around Thomas’ middle. “Chuck loved you like a brother. And so did you. And I know that if you gave him the chance to die for you again, he would. Because he loved you, and he believed in you, just like the rest of us do.”

Thomas again said nothing, but Newt didn’t let go of him. He held Thomas tight, trying to help. Trying to show him how much he wanted the younger boy to believe his words.

“I remembered other things, too.” Thomas’ voice was soft, but calm.

Newt wanted to ask what else Thomas knew, but then thought better of it. Thomas would come to him if he wanted to share. And if he didn’t, Newt would wait.

“You talked about your dad a lot. I don’t remember a lot of it, but I do remember you said you lived near an ocean. You’d stay up late with me, and you’d tell me stories about your dad, and the color of the ocean.”

 _He… he had a father?_ Of course he had a father at some point, but… hearing Thomas say it aloud made it feel more real. Less of a hard fact and more of a… memory. Like there was some sort of emotion behind it. Of course, Newt didn’t remember ever having a father. But… he did have one.

“He loved you so much, Newt. And you loved him.” Thomas rolled onto his back, shoulder to shoulder with Newt as the brunette gazed up at the stars. “You loved gardening. You and your dad kept a garden in front of your house by the ocean. You loved it, and your dad loved it because… you said that your mother loved gardening just as much as you did.”

Tears pricked at Newt’s eyes. He… All this time in the Glade, he’d loved growing things and tending to crops as his job. But, he’d never stopped to consider why. How he knew what he somehow knew. Which plants needed various amounts of water, or which required more sunlight than others. It was like second nature. He’d never stopped to consider that maybe, before the Maze he’d gardened. That he’d taken after his mum.

“I had a mother?”

“You… She died just after you and your dad left to come here from England. She had the Flare, Newt. I’m sorry.”

He had a mother. And a father. It both broke his heart, but also filled it with hope.

He laced his fingers with Thomas’. Thomas squeezed his hand back, and rolled his head to the side, staring at Newt. Newt returned the gaze and smiled.

“Thank you, Tommy.” A kiss followed, soft and sweet. Then Thomas talked through the night, recounting most of what he could remember about the ocean, from what Newt had told him so long ago. Thomas told Newt his own words he’d forgotten, painting for him an oral picture of what Newt had said the colors and smells of the ocean were like.

**The Scorch, That Night:**

_Newt was an empty canvas._ Thomas didn’t know how he remembered that word either. But it stuck. It had been running around in his head all day, since the night before when he’d remembered Newt telling him about the ocean from so long ago.

 _Newt is a white-washed canvas. Empty, stripped of all color and memory. If only I could paint him back to life,_ Thomas thought. _Make him see the color in the world by trying to get him to remember what I’d never even known._ But Thomas was afraid. What if Newt lashed out? Cried? Refused to speak to him, for keeping such things from him? Thomas didn’t want to hurt Newt.

But when he woke up from the nightmare that was the memory of Chuck crying into his shoulder, screaming for his mama, Thomas was too shaken to care. He wanted to feel something other than regret and fear.

And Newt gave that to him. He gave him hope.

So in return, Thomas gave Newt what little he remembered, filling the night with the sounds of Thomas’ voice trying to splash the color of the ocean onto his empty canvas, his lack of memory. Thomas wanted to fill the shell of a person Newt had become without his memories. He wanted the small Brit, full of fire and spirit back. He was determined to paint such a person back, to fill the shell of Newt with life again.

The Scorch may not have been kind, but then again, neither were Jorge’s gang members. Even as Minho had zipped across the divide between buildings, a sick feeling of fear twisted in Thomas’ stomach.

But even in the club, being drugged by the bubbly guy at the front door, Brenda was standing in front of him, leaning forward. But when the person standing in front of him, leaning back from giving him a kiss, Thomas didn’t see Brenda leaning back. It was Teresa.

“T-Teresa?” Thomas breathed, blinking. But when he blinked, the dark hair had shortened, the skintone darkened and the face had become circular, not oval-shaped.

Brenda huffed, walking away. But Thomas was confused. Brenda? Teresa? Dizziness swirled around in Thomas’ head. He heard things as if he had his head in a tin can, sounds rattling around him, drums banging in his ears as the music blared around him. He could feel the heavy base pump through his arms and legs, feet it vibrating in his shoes.

Why would he imagine Teresa? Why would Brenda kiss him? He knew he loved Newt, that was for sure… So why was Teresa in his thoughts?

He’d never really felt that way about Teresa, or Brenda. They were his friends. Just like Frypan and Minho.

And that’s when he saw the Cranks.

At first, Thomas thought it was just the people in the corner trying to fight the Cranks, and that one of them had happened to get loose. But then he realized it was Winston’s face. He turned around, fear jolting him into action. But he turned around, to see Minho, black veins and empty eyes, void of any soul.

But what Thomas couldn’t handle was when he saw Newt, his body taken over by the Flare. Thomas screamed, slipping to the floor as he fell backwards. The lights slipped from him. Darkness closed his eyelids.

His eyes opened to Teresa staring down at him. It took a second, but he absorbed the light streaming in through the window, dirty and dust from all the time and hardships the world had given it over the course of its existence.

Thomas sat up, surveying the room. He could feel the floor vibrate beneath him, the music from the level below them still beating like a hyperactive heart. The sun screamed behind his eyes, pressing on his temples like two relentless and murder-driven thumbs intent on crushing the sensitive part of his skull.

Newt was across the room in a chair, not looking at him. While Jorge interrogated Marcus, Thomas made his way —as best he could in his stupor— towards Newt. Lightly, he touched Newt’s pale arm.

“Hey.”

No response. Newt still wouldn’t even look at him. But he wasn’t watching the interrogation either. He just stared at the wall, a grey mist of boredom falling over his eyes.

“Newt?”

This time, Newt did look over, a harsh coldness laying behind the dark brown irises. Something that spoke of hurt, betrayal. Broken trust. Thomas opened his mouth, but found no words came out. Just mumbles of half-words that were meant to be excuses for something that he had to make up to Newt. Something that he didn’t even know.

Thomas took a deep breath, blinking and tried to recollect his words.

“Newt, can we talk outside?” The blonde said nothing but walked outside the door, and Thomas followed, closing the door to the hallway so the others wouldn’t hear.

There was a beat before Thomas spoke. Something was bothering Newt, and it wasn’t hard to tell. His limp was more pronounced, and worry hung over his face like a black veil over a picture of a recently lost loved one. Newt turned his back on him, a hand up to his mouth as he always did when he was deep in thought.

“Newt, what’s wrong?” Suddenly, Newt whipping around, screaming at Thomas.

“What’s wrong? What’s _wrong?_ _I’ll tell you what’s bloody **wrong** , Thomas! _You left us! You and that Brenda girl were trapped and the building exploded and…” Newt’s screaming had devolved into high-pitched cries, and he was gripping Thomas’ shirt, trying to shake the stronger boy. Thomas wrapped his arms around Newt.

“I’m sorry.” Thomas muttered, and Newt shook against him.

”Don’t you ever do that to me again. Don’t scare me, please. I’ve already lost too many friends. I couldn’t handle if I...”

“I know.”

**The Right Arm’s Shipyard, One Week Later:**

Newt was awakened to Thomas lightly shaking his shoulder. The blonde’s cinnamon eyes rose to meet the tired face of his lover. Naturally he wouldn’t be able to sleep since Minho had just been taken away. Figures. A twinge of guilt slammed into Newt’s heart. Even though he’d been exhausted enough to have dreamless sleep, Newt wished he’d had a harder time falling asleep than he had. One of his best friends had just been kidnapped, tortured, and who knew what else.

And what had he done? Slept. Newt cursed himself for being so insensitive. He had to be the worst friend who ever—

“Hey. We’re here.” Thomas’ soft voice in his ear. Newt looked outside the car, lifting his head off where it had been resting on Thomas’ shoulder.

Out the window, the colors of the night were rolling away in slow-motion, being softly scooted aside by the awakening warm colors of the rising day. It was beautiful, Newt had to admit. There was actually a few times in the last couple of days he thought he’d never live to see such beauty again. That his sun would cease to rise.

Again, guilt sent an invisible hand into his middle, reaching to grab his gut and squeeze, suffocating and twisting as if trying to pull it out through his skin. Minho. Minho was missing this. Who knew if he was even still…

 _No_ , Newt thought. He was alive. And the remaining Gladers were going to go get him.

Thomas and Newt shuffled out of the car, and the first thing Newt heard was…

It sounded like nothing he could describe. Like some kind of rush or crash, but softer. Something. Something was telling him that this was… He’d at least heard… It sounded like something he knew… But he didn’t. He didn’t know, so why was he so confused?

Newt grabbed his head roughly. _Why can’t I understand? Why can’t I remember?_

“Newt? What’s wrong?” There was a ginger hand on his back, and Newt realized he’d hunched over, head tightly gripping his hair.

“Why can’t I remember?”

“Remember what?” The rushing sound came again.

“That sound!” Newt’s voice hitched to a whine, and it was all too much, it—

“Oh, just wait til you see it.” Vince said, walking towards massive ships in the distance.

Thomas and Newt exchanged glances, and followed the rebellious leader. He was headed for the large ships that were blocked by buildings. But behind the buildings was…

Thomas gasped.

“Newt, that’s… I think that’s the ocean.”

Newt’s mind reeled. Ocean. The one thign he was supposed to be able to remember. It felt like a memory that was draped under a thick, velvet blanket. He couldn’t make out the image below, only feel around blindly for the outline of it. Newt searched and searched, trying to believe that the memories truly were there, ready for the taking, but he couldn’t. Nothing was coming to him, no matter how hard he tried and wished it were so.

“Sure is.” Vince assured them, before walking off to go talk to the others. An arm curled around Newt’s shoulder.

“Hey, you don’t look so good.” Thomas said gently.

“I can’t remember the ocean. I don’t remember any of this. I want to, but—” Newt was going to shrug, but Thomas pulled him into his arms for a tight hug.

“It’s okay if you can’t remember. Doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the ocean for the _second_ first time.” Newt buried his face in Thomas’ shoulder, breathing in the scent of the salt that hung heavy in his nose.

It didn’t take long to get used to that smell. Or the sound of the ocean, waves settling on the shore as the soothing sound that danced through the window of Thomas and Newt’s room, lulling the pair to sleep most of the nights there. Nights spent sleepless, fucking, worrying, arguing, crying, kissing, and everything that fell through the in between. It’s just the way life had become, what their life was.

 

 _It feels like there's oceans_  
_Between you and me once again_  
_We hide our emotions_  
_Under the surface and try to pretend_  
_But it feels like there's oceans_  
_Between you and me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: Okay, look, guys. This is the second part, and I originally planned for only two parts of this, but then realized that this second part was too big not to break up, since it covered both the Scorch Trials and the Death Cure, which has more to it than my headcanons of the Fever Code and the events of the Maze Runner. So the Death Cure stuff is getting a chapter of its own, so sorry if this chapter was kinda short. And yes, if it were up to me, I would go back in an put in more little Newtmas moments in the first chapter because I basically skipped the entirity of the Maze Runner. But to be honest, I like making up little scenes that weren’t in the movies rather than copying what was in the movie to make it into more of a Newtmas thing. Plus, I have a fic like that in the works anyway (not related to this one, unless you want it to be, but then that’s up to you, I can’t fucking stop you).  
> The song references are going to make sense by the end, I promise. But if you figure it out, please don’t spoil it. That’s just a shitty thing to do.


	3. What Thomas Remembered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: Oof, this is going to hurt. Or not. Sorry not sorry. Also, there’s a lot of sex in this chapter. Again, not sorry.

 

 _I want you_  
_I want you_  
_And always will_

 

**The Shipyard, 6 Months Later:**

Newt walked back to his room he shared with Thomas, a plate of food in his hands. Opening the door slowly, Newt found the inside to be dark, even though the temporary shipyard wasn't under one of their regularly schedule WCKD drills. It was late, too.

The Brit strode forward, the door creaking closed behind him. A dark silhouette sat alone on the bed, facing away from him. Newt reached over, flicking on the lamp that stood on the bedside table, where he set down the plate of food. Thomas hadn't shown up for dinner.

But Newt didn't need to guess to know why.

He slipped off his boots and crawled up behind Thomas on the bed, resting his blonde head on the back on Thomas’ shoulder. He took a deep breath.

“I know you miss him, luv. We all do.” Newt placed a kiss on the side of Thomas’ neck, and turned around to grab the plate of food. “Since you didn't want to go down for dinner, I brought you a bite to eat.”

“I'm not hungry.” Thomas’ voice was ragged, as if he'd been crying. Newt's heart tightened in pain at the sound.

“Tommy.” He said softly.

“Newt, please, I…” Instead of finishing his sentence, a choked gasp came out of Thomas’ mouth. Newt turned Thomas toward him, as the brunette tried to wipe his own cheeks with the side of his hand.

Rather than reply, Newt grabbed Thomas’ hand, kissing it gently. He repeated this action, kissing all over Thomas’ hand until he looked up. Thomas watched the blonde quietly, tears streaming down his face. Newt hated the sight of pain, so he leaned up, kissing at the tear lines until Thomas was only sniffling, and his tears had subsided. Gently, the Brit put his hands on Thomas’ shoulders, making sure he had laid down, and he crawled over the brunette.

“It wasn't your fault. And it's going to be alright. I promise.” Newt whispered, his lips hovering just above Thomas’, until Thomas pushed up to press them together. Newt smiled and kissed Thomas reassuringly. He sat up, straddling Thomas’ hips and pulled off his shirt. “Let me take care of you, darling.” Newt thumbed at the hem of Thomas’ shirt briefly before wiggling it off.

Exposing Thomas, Newt leaned down and began kissing a line down Thomas’ jaw, leading down his neck and stopped at his collarbones. The blonde smiled softly up at Thomas, who was captivated by Newt and his actions. A pink tongue licked a stripe along the bony skin, tracing it.

“Fuck.” Thomas breathed, shuddering. Newt grinned.

“That's the general idea, Tommy.” He gripped Thomas’ hips firmly. Newt gave one last kiss to Thomas’ collarbone before moving lower and kissed down his chest. Thomas’ breath hitched as Newt's lips found their way to Thomas’ belt buckle.

“Newt-” but Newt was already working to undo his lover's pants, and mouthing at Thomas through the cotton of his boxers.

“Shh, I know luv. I've got you.” Newt peeled back the boxers, shimmying the remaining articles of clothing off Thomas’ feet, tossing them away. Flicking his eyes up at Thomas, Newt gave a genuine, soft smile up at the brunette. “Let me take care of you, Thomas.” Before taking his boyfriend into his mouth. Thomas sighed happily, closing his eyes and letting Newt work his mouth around Thomas. His hand naturally slipped into Newt's hair. The blonde hummed appreciatively, which caused Thomas to gasp loudly, loving the feeling of vibration from the back of Newt's throat on his dick.

It wasn't long before Newt felt the tightening in Thomas’ grip on his hair, and his body tensing up. His panting was rapid, and each breath sounded closer and closer to Newt's name.

“N- _ah_ , Newt-- oh god… Newt, I'm close. Oh jesus…” Thomas gasped out. Newt smiled, and released his mouth with a pop. Thomas whined loudly, and Newt kissed Thomas’ thigh.

“I know, but you should make the most of this.” Thomas, who had seemed to have a different mood now, leaned up, and tangled his legs with Newt's, flipping them both. Newt gasped and looked up in surprise. “Tommy, wh-”

“I _am_ making the most of this, Newt.” Thomas ravaged Newt's neck, leaving bruises and little bite marks while the blonde gasped and sighed. Every time Thomas’ teeth pressed the skin, Newt would make a little shriek of pleasure that riled up Thomas even more.

“Pants. Now.” Thomas growled, and Newt whined at the sound, doing as Thomas said. The moment Newt was bare, Thomas pulled the blonde into his chest, breathing him in. “Thank you.” He whispered. Lips were on his skin.

“I love you.” A quiet, accented voice said. Thomas smiled, a plan already forming in his head.

“I love you too, Newt. And I know you're suffering too. Let me take care of _you_ this time.” Newt wrapped his arms around Thomas, pulling him back down. Thomas grinned, and moved down to loosen his boyfriend.

“Tommy, no… I'm ready.” Newt moaned, trying to knock Thomas’ fingers away.

“No, I'm not going to hurt you, baby.” Thomas grabbed the lube (yes he had gone on a raid and brought back some a while ago) and pushed a finger in. Newt sighed, and Thomas pushed a second in after it, scissoring the two digits inside his boyfriend. Newt squirmed and gripped the sheets at the edge of the bed tightly.

“Tommy, I'm ready, please.”

“Not yet, babe. I won't hurt you.” Not that he hadn't before. A month prior, Thomas and Newt were in the middle of a screaming match that ended in the roughest sex of either of their lives, when Newt had practically begged Thomas to hurt him. And Thomas, having already been pushed past his limit of giving a fuck, had released his anger by making Newt scream. The next morning, despite Newt's reassurance that he was okay (just extremely sore), Thomas had apologized profusely.

“Tommy, this was supposed to be about you.”

“Newt,” the brunette pushed a third finger, and pushed back and forth, fucking the blonde with his fingers, “I don't…” Thomas sighed. How could he say this? “I just need this right now. I don't want to lose anyone else. And you matter to me more than anyone else ever has. I just.. need to make sure you're here.” It sounded stupid, but Newt smiled, nodding.

“I know.” Thomas pulled his fingers out, and grabbed the lube again, slicking himself up. He hovered over Newt again, pressing a short kiss to his lips. The brunette slid his hands into one of Newt's, lacing their fingers together.

“I love you, and I don't want to lose you.” Thomas lined himself up and pressed in. Newt moaned low as Thomas slid in forward.

“Fuck, Tommy.”

“That's right, baby. I've got you, I've got you.” Thomas whispered as Newt whined at the feeling of Thomas bottoming out.

“Tommy, move.”

“You got it, Newt.” Thomas slid out and pushed in harshly, and Newt swore loudly at the repeated feeling. “That's it, _fuck_ \-- Newt you're so good.” Newt just gasped and moaned as Thomas fucked into him.

“Please, I-- Tommy!” Newt pleaded.

“More?” The smirk was more than teasing, but Newt didn't care. Nothing felt this good, and he wanted, no, he _needed_ more.

“Yes, god, please Tommy. More.” The blonde moaned desperately. Thomas gripped Newt's hips hard enough to leave marks and used it as leverage to fuck Newt at a different, more direct angle. Newt cried out, basically screaming. Thomas moaned at the sound, almost coming himself. He had to hear more of Newt screaming for him.

“God, I want this whole camp to hear you scream for me.” Thomas panted and Newt sobbed loudly, overwhelmed by everything. The overstimulation had him coming all over his chest as well as Thomas’. Thomas, however, sped up as best he could, causing Newt to scream again with oversensitivity. “Fu-uck.” Thomas was spilling into his boyfriend, his entire body shaking. Not even a second after pulling out, he collapsed next to the blonde who was still panting.

“Well, that was not how that was meant to go.” Newt said, sighing and looking at Thomas with a smile. Shyly, Thomas smiled back.

“Thank you.” He replied, cuddling into Newt's side. He kissed the blonde’s temple and got up, grabbing a rag to wipe them both off with.

When he was done, Newt had turned on his side, ready for Thomas to spoon his backside. Thomas happily obliged, cradling his boyfriend within the comforts of his arms.

“I love you, Newt.” Thomas whispered, leaning up to peck Newt's cheek before laying back down to nuzzle into the back of Newt's neck.

Newt's eyes closed, slipping into a state of bliss and light sleep.

It wasn't until he heard the bed creaking several hours later that he knew. And when a fully dressed Thomas pressed one final, soft kiss to Newt's head, the blonde knew for sure.

Thomas was leaving. He was leaving to go get Minho back.

Sighing, Newt threw back the covers and grabbed his gear. He'd planned for this, even going so far as to tell Fry before. Newt had had his suspicions before Thomas missed dinner or tried to fuck Newt like it was going to be their last time. After throwing on clothes, Newt raced down to the garage, meeting up with Frypan.

Sure enough, Thomas wandered down.

“Where do you think you're going, then?” Newt grinned as he turned on the light to illuminate his face.

“Newt…”

“Don't be a twat about it.” Newt sauntered forward. “I'm already in.” He said, grabbing Thomas’ hand and pulling him toward the truck. “C’mon.”

“No. No, not this time.” Thomas stepped towards Newt, who was putting Thomas’ backpack in the truck, and turned towards his boyfriend in a disapproving glance. “Look, even if we find Minho, there's no guarantee we make it back from this.” Slowly, Newt nodded, then opened the driver's side door to reveal their friend.

“Well, you'll need all the help you can get, now wouldn't you?” Newt leaned against the truck crossing his arms and smirking. Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. Newt knew him too well. Both their friends did. “Well… we started this together. May as well end it that way, too.” Thomas sighed, but then nodded.

“Okay.” Thomas blinked, pausing for a second. “Let's go get him back.”

**Lawrence's Hideout, the Next Morning:**

Seeing Gally alive again was shocking. But not enough of a shock to stop Newt from what he did next. Thomas was in the line of fire, about to be shot for hitting Gally. Before reason could intervene, Newt's instinct propelled him forward, rushing to his boyfriend when all others stopped or trained their guns on him. Newt threw his body over Thomas’ and held back his fist that was raised to punch again.

“Stop!”

“He killed Chuck.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I remember. I was there too. But I also remember that he was stung and half out of his mind.” Finally realizing where he was and the quite literal danger they were in, Newt looked around at all the weapons easily ready to kill them. Choosing to ignore them, Newt leaned into Thomas and whispered to him. “Just calm down, alright?” Thomas shoved away from Newt, still glaring at Gally. Gally in respect, stood and held his jaw a bit.

“Kinda had that coming.” He said.

**Train Tracks Beneath the Last City, An Hour Later:**

The train was moving faster. Thomas could make it, just as long as it was just a little further. Thomas was almost there, almost to the edge where he could get out of the way—

It wasn't until he reached the side of the wall that fear struck him from out of nowhere like an unseen shovel to the back of the head.

Newt wasn't behind him.

Fear and shock pulsated through Thomas, he tried to jump forward, to rush in and save Newt, but a hand pushed him back.

“Newt!” Thomas screamed and a blur of Gally sprinted past him, pushing Newt farther down onto the tracks so he couldn't escape. “ _Newt!_ ” Thomas shrieked, but the momentum of the train threw him against the wall, forcing him to witness the death of his best friend.

Thomas closed his eyes, and rested his head against the wall. No. _No_. Not after everything, he couldn't lose Newt. Keeping his eyes closed, Thomas prayed, trying to keep some fleeting hope that Newt could still be alive.

A groan forced his eyes open.

Gally was kneeling over Newt and Thomas couldn't remember the last time he ran so fast over to Newt.

“Never were great runners, were we, Newt?” Thomas heard Gally say as Thomas pushed him aside, pulling Newt into his arms.

“Well, I've only got one good leg.” Newt said, and Thomas’ body flew into him.

“Jesus, Newt. I thought I lost you.” Thomas breathed into Newt's shoulder, still shaking.

“It's alright, Tommy.” Newt's arms curled around Thomas, and they both stood.

“Are you okay?” Thomas asked, finally looking Newt in the eye, but cradling Newt's face in his hands.

“Yeah.” Thomas slowly turned, facing Gally. But he didn't say anything. A life for a life.

**Lawrence's Hideout, Two Hours Later:**

After debating for twenty minutes, Newt was far beyond agitated. Thomas kept arguing against the plan, even though there was nothing wrong with it. Except that it involved Teresa possibly getting hurt. And that shook Newt to his core.

Pure, unbridled rage like nothing Newt had ever remembered feeling before was slowly but steadily rising within him, waiting to be unleashed. But Newt trusted himself. He had always been the voice of reason, what could be so different now?

He picked at his fingers, trying to zone out, but the others kept going around the table, arguing with Thomas.

Why was he defending her? Thomas was with Newt, not Teresa. Newt looked after Thomas, not Teresa. She had betrayed them, left them to die. She had never been there for Thomas. _Newt_ had.

So why the fuck was Thomas ignoring sound logic to get Minho back? Why? Because he couldn't hurt the one person they'd all had a grudge against?

And like a kettle, the steam rose within Newt till it boiled over and cried out.

“What, you're afraid your little ‘girlfriend’ is gonna get hurt? Hmm? This has obviously never just been about rescuing Minho, has it?” A look of confusion came over Thomas’ face, and he turned towards Newt.

“Newt, what're you talking about?”

“Teresa. She's the only reason that Minho's even missing in the first place, now we finally have an opportunity to get him back and what? You don't want to because of _her_? Because deep down inside, you still care about her, don't you? Just admit it.” Newt's words were spilling out of his mouth quicker than he could control, like a ball rolling down a hill, faster than Newt knew what to do.

Thomas had never loved him. Thomas had been in love with Teresa from the beginning, and Newt was just some temporary ass for him to mess with. He could've been lying about the “before the maze”. For all he knew, Thomas could've lied about everything. Their so-called relationship, their lives before WCKD, Thomas’ fake feelings for Newt and true feelings for Teresa. Something snapped inside Newt, having all he could take from the voice inside his head, telling him these things.

“Newt, I—”

“DON'T LIE TO ME!” Newt screamed, slamming Thomas against the wall. Of all the people, he could lie to everyone, except for Newt. Why did he have to lie to the person he was supposed to trust the most? The person who was supposed to trust _him_ the most? “Dont. Lie. To. Me!”

Then, like becoming sober after drunk sex, reality hit Newt.

Thomas’ frightened face was inches from him, eyes wide and scared. Scared of Newt. Newt gasped slightly and backed away, not believing what he'd just done. He swallowed and looked down, ashamed.

“M'sorry.” It came out so soft, Newt wasn't sure if he'd actually said it aloud, or had just thought it. He turned away from Thomas, still too stunned to say much else. He turned to face the rest of the room. “I'm sorry.” Newt stated before walking out, clutching his arm.

His... arm.

It dawned on him, and life seemed to seep away as Newt left the building to sit out on the roof. He was dying. Sooner rather than later, Newt was going to become a Crank.

It took awhile for Thomas to follow Newt out into the sunlight. Even then, Newt couldn't meet his eye, but he did notice that Thomas kept his distance from the blonde. As if he was afraid of him.

“Sorry about that, back there.” Swallowing his fear, Newt knew that he really did trust Thomas. And that he couldn't keep this secret any longer, especially not from Thomas. He rolled up his jacket sleeve. “Guess I can't hide this anymore.” Black veins protruded the smoothness of the pale skin, making the skin bumpy. Thomas sank to his knees.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Didn't think it'd make any difference.” And a sensation --that Newt hadn't felt since Thomas had walked into his life-- washed back over him again. The emptiness, the hopelessness. The darkness. “All I know is that WCKD must've put me in the Maze for that reason. Maybe it was literally just so they could tell the difference between immunes like you and people like me.”

“You know we can still fix this, Newt. Okay, we can.” Newt rolled down his sleeve and did something he deemed that he should've done a long time ago.

“Did I ever tell you about... when I broke my leg? Way back in the Maze, I'd just come out of the box, just like all the other guys. Didn't know where I was. Didn't know _who_ I was, you know? And even though all my memories were gone, I could still feel… that something was missing. That... _someone_ was missing.” His brown eyes met Thomas’. “You know?”

There was a pause. Thomas knew exactly what Newt was going to say. He remembered every second of it. But he knew Newt had to tell him, for his own reasons.

“As it turns out, that someone was you. But in that moment... I-I felt empty.” Newt continued. “And I… I just… I couldn't have that. Couldn't take it.” Thomas had never heard Newt speak this way. He felt so detached, removed. As if he was already dead, and his body was just some living his corpse his soul had been ejected from. “So, one morning, I got up early, and I snuck out into the Maze, and I went and I found the tallest wall I could. And I climbed up there, and… I jumped off it.”

Thomas' heart had already been breaking from the sound of Newt's voice. But hearing the man say it, to tell it in his own words and nearly breaking down while doing it… Thomas couldn't fight the tears spilling over.

“Course, I got completely tangled up in all the ivy.” A slight, humorless laugh was attached on to the end of Newt's statement, and the hand of torment squeezed the life out of his heart tighter. “Snapped my leg in three different places, like a proper Shank.” Thomas wanted it to stop, but he was frozen, the only movement was his own breathing and the tears he silently cried. “Landed hard on the floor. And I thought that was it. And then Minho found me. Somehow. And he picked me up and took me back to the Glade. And we never told anyone the truth about what happened. He saved me, gave me a second chance. And now he needs us. So if there is even the slightest chance that we can save him, if we can get him out of there? Then we have to take that. No matter what the cost.”

“Okay, I hear you.” Thomas said, and Newt nodded sadly. “And Newt?” Thomas’ voice was soft, but hurt. The blonde looked over at him with lifeless eyes. “We're going to save you, too. Because I won't lose either of you, okay?” Newt turned away to stare back at the wall around WCKD.

“Don't worry about me.” Newt stood up to walk off, but Thomas caught his good arm and held it. Newt looked from Thomas’ hand on his arm, then up to his eyes. He looked so detached, and it physically hurt Thomas to see. He pulled the blonde into his arms.

“I'm going to save you, Newt. I promise.” He whispered into the crook of Newt's shoulder. “Not because I don't care about Minho. But because I love you, and I won't lose you. I almost did.” Slowly, arms reached around Thomas’ middle, holding him lightly. “Just promise you won't give up.” There was a long pause, and Thomas sniffled, still lightly crying. “Promise me, Newt.” Still nothing came from the blonde, and Thomas closed his eyes. “Please.”

Newt said nothing, and slipped away from Thomas’ grasp. He walked towards the building.

“Newt!” Thomas chased after him, following to the map room where everyone had congregated just ten minutes before. But now, the rest of the group had all dispersed after Newt's outburst. Thomas caught up to Newt, and pushed him against the wall not too rough, but just enough to gain the blonde's attention. “Newt.” His hard eyes met Newt's slightly surprised ones. “I love you, and I'm going to fix this. Okay?”

He saw Newt melt in his arms, depression overtaking his boyfriend.

No. Thomas couldn't, he _wouldn't_ allow that.

Thomas pressed his entire body against Newt, trapping him between Thomas and the wall.

“I’m shucking in love with you, slinthead.” Newt could feel Thomas’ body as he breathed, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against his own. But then there was a knee on his groin and Newt bit his lip. Thomas huffed, a smirk forming on his lips. “Maybe you don't know how much I love you.” Thomas said darkly. “Maybe… I have to show you.”

“Tommy, this isn't about me, it's about Minho-!” But Thomas' lips were already on Newt's throat. The brunette rubbed his knee more firmly against Newt's hardening crotch.

“Shh. I'm going to give you something to live for.”

“But Tommy--” Newt moaned as Thomas kissed his neck loudly. As he did, Thomas grabbed Newt's ass, hauling the blonde up so that Newt's legs were wrapped around Thomas’ middle. Thomas set Newt down on the table in the middle of the room.

“I'm going to have you right here, because you deserve to know that someone loves you. You're gonna live, Newt. Because I want to live with you for the rest of my life. However long or short that may be.” Thomas said sincerely. Newt showed a hint of a smile.

“Tommy. I love you. But can we not do this here, in a public space?” Thomas shook his head.

“No, I can't wait.” Thomas said, diving for Newt's belt.

“Tommy, c'mon. Not here.” Newt's voice was soft, and Thomas sighed. He was right.

Gently, Thomas picked Newt up again, holding him close to his chest. Newt just settled his head on Thomas’ shoulder as Thomas carried him to the temporary room they'd been offered by Gally. Thomas set Newt down on the bed softly, after making sure to close the door behind them.

“I love you.” The brunette professed quietly as he slid off Newt's boots, untucking the hem of the blonde's pants from the shoes. “So shucking much, you don't understand. Last night…” Thomas inhaled deeply, peeling off his jacket as well as Newt's. “Last night, I thought I lost you. I don't want to have go through that ever again, you hear me?” Thomas crawled up beside his boyfriend, taking both of Newt's hand in his own. “You deserve the world. You are kind, and smart, and just perfect, and you mean the world to me. I will never let anything happen to you.”

“But Minho is our top priority. Don't worry about me.”

“Don't you get it? I will always worry about you, because I care about you, shank. And that's not going to change. As soon as we get Minho, I'm going to get you the serum, and you're going to live.”

Newt went quiet for a long time. He sat up, and Thomas sat up with him, hugging the blonde from the back. Reaching his arms around Newt's middle, he grabbed the blonde's hands again to lace their fingers together.

“Tommy.”

“Yeah?”

“You do realize you can't stay with me.”

“What do you mean?” Newt leaned his head back to look Thomas in the eye.

“Thomas, when you sail with the others to the Safe Haven… I can't go with. I have to stay behind with Brenda. You can't risk people getting infected because of me.”

“Then we stay behind together.” But Newt was already shaking his head.

“No. WCKD will never stop chasing you. You have to escape, get as far away as you can. Get out of their reach. They don't want me, I'm not immune. That, and you'd never see Minho or Frypan again. Alby trusted you to take care of the Gladers, Tommy. And you have so far. But you have to finish it without me.”

“Newt, no. You're a Glader just as much as the rest of them. I don't give a damn if you're immune or not.”

“Thomas, please listen—”

“Newt, no. I love you too much to just give up on you.” For once, the second in command stopped arguing and gave in, sighing and leaning against Thomas’ chest. Thomas pressed a light kiss to Newt’s neck and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “We can do this. But we’re gonna do it together. Like you said yourself: we started this, and we’ll be the ones to finish it, _together_.” Newt didn’t reply, but he did moan low when Thomas kept kissing his neck, leaving deep purple marks on the pale, exposed skin.

Eventually, Thomas had pushed Newt down, stripping his boyfriend and ravishing his chest and middle, whispering soft praises and words of love the entire time. Tears pricked in Newt’s eyes quietly. Thomas was quick to pick up on this, though.

“You’re allowed to fall apart, Newt. I’m here.” Thomas said quietly, and Newt hiccuped, more tears spilling from his brown eyes. In response, Thomas kissed the sides of Newt’s eyes, trying to vanquish his lover’s tears. “I’m gonna take care of you, baby.”

He did notice the black veins on Newt’s arms, and how Newt would cast side glances of hate towards the spot. Thomas gave a look at Newt, then pulled the arm towards himself, lifting the appendage to his lips and almost kissing the surrounding area. Newt gasped and tugged his arm away.

“No! I don’t want you getting sick!”

“Newt, I’m immune. I helped Brenda get better, didn’t I?”

“Still, I don’t want to take unnecessary risks. Not with you, luv.” Newt’s caring eyes made Thomas smile.

“Then I’ll just be extra careful. Because I’m going to kiss every single inch of you until you understand just how much I care about you.” Thomas said, pulling Newt’s arm towards him, but started at the crook of Newt’s elbow and left a trail of kisses on Newt’s upper arms, rather than the infected forearm. When Thomas made his way up Newt’s arm to his shoulder, and eventually to his neck and face, he stopped at Newt’s ear. “Let me love you.” He whispered hotly into Newt’s ear before gently biting the lobe. Newt gasped and shuddered, making Thomas chuckle darkly.

**Underneath the Last City, a Day Later:**

They were going to rescue him tonight. Tonight was everything. And Newt had been suffering, even the rest of the group had noticed. Black veins had been crawling up and down Newt’s face and torso. And with the stress of having Teresa around, things were heated.

Thing was, they were told to rest up and get some sleep during the day so that everybody could be ready for tonight. But Thomas was restless. On-edge.

And Newt was was dying.

Naturally, he knew what he had to do. There was one way to get Thomas to get a good night’s sleep and to take his mind off of the night to come. Newt knew it would probably be his last night. At the enhanced rate the infection was spreading throughout his body, he wouldn’t make long past tomorrow. Maybe not even that long. He had to hold out for Minho. He had to give Minho that second chance he owed him three years ago.

Newt looked over at Thomas, who had sat up in bed, staring at nothing but the opposite wall. Absentmindedly, Newt clutched the necklace around his neck. He knew what he had to do, but he had to get Thomas to fall asleep to do it.

That, and he wanted one last special moment with the man he loved before madness took it all away from him. Newt knew he loved Thomas, and he truly did believe that he’d loved him even before the Maze. Sure, there was no memory to go off from, even though Thomas remembered, and had told Newt everything he did remember, but Newt trusted it. He wanted to believe in the notion that they were happy together before the Maze. Before everything.

And he was sure that he loved Thomas. Thomas had given him everything. An escape from the pain, but also hope, love, and most importantly, a reason to make it through to the next day. Up until now, however. That was all about to change.

Newt knew Thomas would be in pain. Of course, it was only natural. But he had hoped that maybe the letter he wanted to write to Thomas would be enough to console his love in his absence. Not that it would be a replacement by any means, but… Newt prayed that it would help.

Thomas looked down at Newt, but he didn’t smile. No emotion showed on his face. So Newt reached for his boyfriend’s hand and kissed it slowly.

“I love you, Thomas.” He said. Thomas gave a weak smile that never reached his eyes, and it hurt Newt. He hated seeing Thomas this way. “Tommy, listen. I need you to do something for me. I don’t… I don’t expect to be around much longer, so—“

“Newt, stop! Don’t talk like that.” Thomas pleaded, resting his face in his hands. “I won’t lose you, okay? So stop acting like you’re giving up. We’re going to get Minho back and I’m going to save you.”

“I just…” Newt sighed. “I just want you to know how much I love you.” Thomas’ anger melted away, and he leaned over to kiss Newt softly.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“So I need you to do something for me.” The Brit said.

“What?”

“Love me. Tonight is going to be rough, getting through WCKD and all. I just need to be loved right now.” Thomas nodded. He cupped Newt’s cheek, his thumb slowly caressing the scar on Newt’s left cheek. Leaning forward, Thomas kissed the mark lightly.

“Okay.” It was soft, and it was loving. Thomas had kissed almost every inch of skin that was within his ability, and he whispered reassurances of his love every second that his lips weren’t on Newt somehow. Newt —despite the pain of the virus— had never felt more loved in his life that he could remember until that moment.

As planned, Thomas fell asleep rather quickly. And Newt set to work, writing a letter that he rolled up into his necklace, double-checking to make sure the cap was screwed on tight enough to stick.

And that was that.

It felt like his life had been wrapped up, ends all tying together in some sort of ribbon. Completed. A tiny wave of bliss blessed his thoughts for a brief second before it blew away again. Things were over for him. Now it was just a matter of making sure the others would be okay.

**Newt:**

It was growing dark. Things were getting hard to see. But Thomas… Newt could feel the warmth of Thomas, even through the raging, burning fever inside of him. Thomas was there.

He… had to keep… telling himself that Thomas was there, even though he knew he wouldn’t be okay. He was never okay… WCKD took his life away. And that just pissed Newt beyond any other rage he’d ever felt. Nothing riled him up more than just the mere thought of WCKD. The stupid uniform he was wearing… This stupid city they were in… They took his memories, they took his life, they… they took his friends. Those stupid fucks murdered his friends, innocent people who deserved to live their lives. All the while, WCKD just sat behind their walls, living lives of luxury and torturing children.

His legs went out from under him, and the world went dark.

He couldn’t see, couldn’t move. Panic rose within Newt, because he no longer saw the dark night sky, lit by the embers of rising flames. No. He saw the brightly lit afternoon sky, orange from the setting sun. The walls of the Maze towered around him. Ivy. His legs and arms were pinned down by the numb pain and tangled in ivy. That’s why he couldn’t move.

Newt tried to wiggle, but his limbs weren’t responding. No one was going to come for him. He was alone. Waiting for the suffering to stop. Waiting to die.

But no, he’d been here before. Minho. Minho was coming. Minho would drag him out of the Maze, he’d come and give him a second chance for life. So where was Minho? The sky was growing darker, but Minho would come. He had to. He had before, so why wouldn’t he now?

Faintly, he could hear something else besides the breeze of the Maze. But it seemed too far off, like it wasn’t really even there. It was the sound of someone struggling, a man crying out with effort. It sounded familiar. Like a voice he’d known forever. The walls of the Maze echoed with the sound, which grew louder now.

_Thomas?_

The second voice belonged to a girl. Newt felt like he should know this voice, too. But it was slipping away, water rushing through his fingers.

_Thomas, you can save Newt._

Thomas. Thomas… Thomas! Things snapped back to Newt, all at once. The Maze, Thomas, WCKD, everything. _Oh, god_.

His feet and legs were moving before he was, he was running, running out of the Maze. But how? His leg was broken, so how could he run? But he was, he ran through the Maze as if he had new legs again. Fear made him turn in rapid directions as voices reached out to him from the past.

Thomas’ voice, telling him he loved him as they cuddled.

His father, telling his crazy stories by the beach.

Minho, boasting to him about finding a new section of the Maze.

Newt opened his eyes. He wasn’t in the Maze, but he was on hunched over the ground, spitting out black goo. And fighting Thomas.

“Tommy… kill me!” He pleaded, the darkness seeping back into his line of vision, dragging him back into his Maze of nightmares.

“Newt-” But Thomas wasn’t able to say much more as Newt cried out in pain as he was transported back into the Maze, this time seeing his friends burn alive, WCKD setting their bodies on fire in the middle of the Maze. Newt screamed, racing to attack them, but they disappeared.

Down another row, he saw Teresa, holding the rope that Minho’s lifeless body was dangling from.

“No!” Newt yelled, running for his friend, but by the time he made it, they were no longer there. Instead he saw Janson, strangling Thomas.

“Newt! Please!” Thomas cried.

But when Newt’s eyes cleared, he saw it wasn’t Janson strangling Thomas, it was him. And he was back in the city again, his hands around Thomas’ neck. Realization hit him, and he removed his hands.

“I’m so- I’m sorry, Tommy.”

He couldn’t hurt Thomas. He couldn’t. This had to end now, and Newt had to do it, quickly before the virus set back in and transported him back into the fantastical nightmare he had gotten trapped in.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Thomas whispered. But it wasn’t. None of this was. With one final look at his best friend, the man he loved, Newt ripped the gun out of his holster, cocking it.

He wanted the last thing he saw to be Thomas. Beautiful, beautiful Thomas. Despite the tears and the blatant fear on his face, this was still his Tommy. He raised the gun to his temple—

“ _NO!_ ” The cry was unmistakable. The gun skittered on the pavement, too far to reach. Anger pulled him back into the Maze, where he was sprinting at breakneck speed. He couldn’t slow down or turn, he just ran impossibly in a straight line, the Maze walls shifting around him to form a direct path.

As Thomas pushed Newt away, he came back.

The knife. The knife was still there. He pulled it out and was ready to hit himself, but he was sucked back into the Maze, this time, he was stuck, the cement of the floor of the Maze molding over his feet. He screamed, trying to pull them out, but it didn’t work.

“C’mon! _C’mon!_ ” Tears protruded from Newt’s eyes. “Please!” he cried. But then he realized what was in front of him. As the cement slowly consumed more of his body from the feet up, Newt watched in horror as he could see what was happening in reality unfold before him.

His WCKD-clad self was tackling Thomas, trying to plunge the knife into his boyfriend’s heart. _No!_ That knife was meant for him, not Thomas! Newt struggled in the dried cement around his feet, watching from a five-foot distance as his other self was driving the knife into Thomas’ heart.

“ _No! Thomas, no!_ ” Newt was screaming and crying as he watched the knife sink into Thomas’ shirt, and blood circled the wound. Thomas yelled out in pain, and Newt’s lungs practically ripped with how hard and loud he screamed. “ _THOMAS!_ ” He pulled at his legs, his waist now covered with cement.

Thomas couldn’t die, he couldn’t kill Thomas!

The brunette kicked Newt off of him, sending the blonde tumbling away. Thomas crawled back towards Newt, who was punched aside by Thomas.

The real Newt screamed again, ready to pull his legs off if it meant he could save Thomas from the not-real him who was swinging the knife at Thomas.

“Thomas, please!” Newt screamed, the cement now consuming his neck. “Tommy!”

Reality. He was back in his own body, charging at Thomas with a knife. The darkness threatened to take him back to the Maze, there to stay forever as a permanent resident. A part of the Maze. Forever.

So Newt fought it. The last seconds stopped, and the slight turn of his wrist had Newt running for Thomas, craving his comfort. But he made sure to fight the darkness of his own soul, his own demons, fighting for just enough control over his own bodu to turn his hand around before colliding his body with Thomas’.

The cement broke around him, and Newt —the real Newt— was back in Thomas’ arms. But his life was draining. And Thomas was there.

With a last push, Newt gasped and forced the knife deeper into himself from Thomas’ body, leaning more and more. For one final—

Soft was the kiss he pressed to Thomas’ lips. He had fought to push for that one last kiss. Just like the time WCKD had dragged Newt off to be drowned in the pods, and Thomas had pushed past the guards for one last, desperate kiss.

Newt gasped. He could remember. He had to tell Tommy that he remembered.

“Tommy-” He had to tell Thomas he remembered. He to tell him that he—

**Thomas:**

Newt’s hand slipped off the knife as he backed up. The kiss lingered on Thomas’ skin, like a pronouncement of death.

No.

“Tommy-”

As Newt fell, Thomas caught him, and they went down together.

“No, nonono-!” As Thomas looked down, he saw the man he loved below him. How many times had he woken up beside Newt, only to lean over him like now, just to kiss him to wake him up?

But Newt was dead, the dark black eyes lifelessly stared up at the night sky.

His mind had been clear as Newt was alive. But now, it raced. All of his memories flooded back, like the moment he had met Newt when they’d tried to break out. The first time Newt had called Thomas ‘Tommy’ on accident. The first time Thomas had made Newt smile and laugh. All the nights they’d cuddled, falling asleep in each other’s arms. They were only 15 and 16 then. The first time Newt had kissed him. And the last.

He remembered. He remembered everything. Clear, vivid visions invaded Thomas’ brain, all of his happiness with Newt throughout their lives. All of it.

He remembered.

He couldn’t… Thomas backed away, grabbing the gun and ran off. He had to run away, he couldn’t look at the man he loved any longer.

It wasn’t until he was sitting on the floor, bleeding out while Janson chased him and Teresa around that he realized he could die. He could join Newt. The others would escape, and he could die to rejoin his friends. He didn’t deserve to escape.

Blood seeped from him, and Thomas could feel with each labored breath that his life was receding away from him. Like waves, the blood would gush out uncontrollably with no way of stopping it by hand. His skin went white, and his vision blurred.

Teresa was pulling him up stairs, but he kept seeing Newt, just a few stairs above them at all times, beckoning Thomas to follow him to the roof. Teresa was shouldering him, pulling him from the one side. Just as he’d pulled Newt along just before he died.

They were on the roof now, Teresa struggling with keeping Thomas upright. So Newt’s pale ghost took the other side of Thomas, trying to hold him up.

“N...Newt.” Thomas whispered, looking at Newt’s ghost. It was so vivid, Thomas could truly imagine Newt really being there.

They collapsed to the floor of the roof.

“I know, I’m sorry, Thomas.” Teresa whispered to Thomas.

“Newt, I…” Thomas started, but Newt shook his head silently.

“Thomas, please.” Teresa was crying, trying to hold him close. “I’m sorry, I tried.” She whimpered. Thomas looked at her.

“I know.” He wanted to be with Newt.

But there was the Berg, and Thomas was pushed inside. Teresa had stayed behind. The building crumbled beneath her.

“No!” Another person’s blood was on his hands now. The guilt invaded his mind, his eyes closing and a breath left Thomas as he prayed it was his last.

But it wasn’t.

Minho had given him Newt’s necklace back. It took him a second, but Thomas popped off the cap, unveiling the note.

_Dear Thomas,_

_This is the first letter I can remember writing. Obviously I don’t remember if I wrote any before the Maze. But even if it’s not my first, it’s likely to be my last._

_I want you to know that I’m not scared. Well, not of dying, anyway. It’s more forgetting. It’s losing myself to this virus, that’s what scares me. So every night, I’ve been saying their names out loud: Alby, Winston, Chuck. I just repeat them over and over like a prayer. And then it all comes flooding back._

_Just the little things, like the way the sun used to hit the Glade at that perfect moment, right before it slipped beneath the walls. And I remembered the taste of Frypan’s stew. I never thought I’d miss that stuff so much._

_And I remember you._

_I remember the first time you came up in the box, just a scared little Greenie, who couldn’t even remember his own name. I know I don’t remember anything about us before all of this, but I believe you. Every single word. From that moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I would follow you anywhere. And I have. We all have._

_If I could do it all over again, I would, and I wouldn’t change a thing. My hope for you is when you’re looking back, years from now, you’ll be able to say the same. The future’s in your hands now, Tommy. And I know you’ll find a way to do what’s right. You always have._

_Take care of everyone for me. And take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. I know you’ll find a way to go on without me. I know how much you love me, I just hope I had enough time to show you just how much I care about you. I love you. And from what you told me, I always have. Even up til the very end._

_Thank you for being my friend, and so much more. Goodbye, love._

_-Newt_

Thomas had to read the letter a few times, tears falling from with face. He made no move to stop them.

It was true, Thomas had stayed in bed for days after he’d woken up, unable to move or eat. The only thing he was able to do was think, remember, and cry.

He cried for the loss of his friends, the ones who’d never made it out of the Glade. Or the ones that had been swallowed up by the horrors of the scorch. Or even the ones that WCKD and the Flare had stolen from him.

Above everything else, Newt was his friend. His best friend. The one who knew more than anyone else, whose judgement Thomas trusted over anyone else. Newt was his strongest connection to the past.

But as Thomas stood on the beach, holding the serum that should’ve saved the love of his life. Around his neck was the letter inside the necklace. It dangled over his heart, under his shirt that rippled in the wind.

Thomas threw the serum into the sea as hard as he could.

He thought about Newt, lying in the rubbled city. With heavy feet, he walked into the water, the tides rising around him.

An ocean stood between them. Newt, on one side, lay dead beneath a city that had crumbled to the ground, leaving no survivors to tell the tale of its ruins. Thomas, on the other, waded into dangerous waters. Thomas made his way towards Newt's corpse that lay beyond the water that separated them.

An ocean stood between them. But not for long.

 

 

 _It feels like there's oceans_  
_Between you and me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Author’s Note: The song is called “Oceans” by Seafret. It has a real Newtmas feel to it for me, and I listened to that while writing the second/third part (first part was written to “Malibu” By Miley Cirus, but that’s not important). This has been all of my free time in the last two months, and honestly I'm gonna miss writing this stuff. Also, please do write some comments below. I do see them when the host sends them to me, and I do enjoy them! Plus, feel free to rant to me about your feels on Tumblr (@/spontaneoustravelingturkeycaller )

**Author's Note:**

>  **Note: This fic belongs to another author, I'm posting this here on their request, with their full permission and consent.**  
>  Also not to be rude, if I see this fic floating anywhere without the original author's or my permission then, I'll haunt yo asses.
> 
>  
> 
>  **Original Author’s Note:** Look, I wrote this instead of sleeping, so if you don’t like it or want to point out errors, you can honestly go tell someone who cares because I really don’t. I wrote this because I’d rather spend my time writing than staring at a ceiling. There’s a good chance this will be continued, but if you like happy endings, you might as well stop here because the next chapter is going to deal with the heavy shit from the Death Cure. And if you comment demanding me to send in the next chapter, I’m gonna delay it one month for every comment made. I might not be a nice person, but hey, play nice in the comments.


End file.
